


hangman is comin' down from the gallows and i don't have very long

by raggirare



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggirare/pseuds/raggirare
Summary: To face the world less the than the man he had been yesterday may as well be a death sentence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [McGenji Week](http://mcgenjiweek.tumblr.com/post/151413786319/welcome-to-mcgenji-week-to-celebrate-mcgenji-and) Day One: Touch

Jesse always revelled in attention. He wasn’t shy in any sense of the word, and he was easily the most extroverted of all of Blackwatch, and even back in his Deadlock days, as well (though one may put that down to childish naivety and no one to teaching him restraint more than anything). Happy to strike up conversation with any familiar face he passed, happy to chat up any pretty face in a bar, happy to stand around and talk instead of doing what he was actually supposed to be doing.

He had been officially discharged from the medical bay almost twenty minutes ago, and yet here he stood, tucked away in a corner out of sight of the main door and the offices and anyone at all that could see him without looking for him. It wasn’t so much that he was hiding. At least, that was what Jesse told himself. He was simply waiting out of the way for a friend to arrive.

Waiting, leaning against a wall, tucking his left shoulder into the corner as inconspicuously as he could manage.

Time clicked by, every second punctuated by the _tick tick ticking_ of the analog clock on the wall. It echoed, almost, in the small and silent space. The medical bay was not the liveliest of places unless there was an emergency. Most days, the doctors kept to their offices or their research labs, poring over reports. No one waited in the front room unless they were expecting someone. The rooms themselves were soundproofed anyway (to give the patients rest; to protect everyone else from their screams of pain).

Jesse had always thought a sign would be fitting, mounted on the front desk or by the door or above the entrance to the surgery hall or something.

Days since last agent fucked up royally: eight.

The Blackwatch agent’s off-hand wandered, reaching to his left in response to a surge of pain. His fingers closed and gripped nothing but thin air, and yet he still flinched in response. Wondered if maybe he should have said yes to Doctor Ziegler’s offer of an extra course of painkillers. Damn his pride.

He lifted his hand to rub at his chin, fingernails catching on stubble. It was more to give his hand something to do than anything else, but it worked to distract his train of thought at least momentarily. Jesse needed a shave rather desperately. Morning stubble and a five o’clock shadow had always been bad enough. A week without shaving was what he’d call hell. 

The distraction didn’t last long. The realisation of having to shave brought with it seconds later the reminder that a razor had always been more than a little awkward to hold with his right hand. Everything always had.

The sound of the main door opening had Jesse tensing and he instinctively made to duck his head and fold his arms across his chest. All it gave him was a sickening reminder and another flash of pain. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, and his eyes squeezed shut, and it took a few long seconds focusing on deep breaths in to alleviate the pain even slightly.

“Jesse?” The echoing voice rattled in the empty room, bouncing off the walls even in the cautiously low whisper that Genji used. It wasn’t close, either, the cyborg keeping his distance enough to not crowd the cowboy, or, at the very least, unsure about whether or not he was welcome close (respect lingering in Genji’s Japanese blood, Jesse had always figured, no matter how many times he reassured the other man that he encouraged physical closeness). “Are you okay?”

There was no point in lying, but Jesse still found himself nodding his head. And, if he were to compare today to the last eight days, he was much closer to ‘okay’. Compared to the twenty-four hours that preceded those eight days and he was living the damn dream. It hurt, but he was still upright, still conscious, still able to relax his shoulders down and open his eyes as warm, humming metal scratched against the wiry hairs on his jaw.

“You did not ask Doctor Ziegler for pain relief,” Genji observed, the smooth metal on the pads of his fingers weaving a deliberate path over Jesse’s face and along his jaw and down his neck to rest on his shoulder. “I would advise that you reconsider.”

Jesse gave a shake of his head. “I’ll be fine, partner.” He tried for reassuring but his words shook a little. It rattled guilt in his gut when the cyborg tilted his head just slightly to the right. Disbelief, if his ‘Genji’s Body Language’ reading skills were still reliable, with all the concern that had been bleeding off the cyborg every day for the past week during his thrice-daily visits. The sharpshooter’s lips quirked up just slightly. “Promise I’ll talk t’her if it don’t get any better.”

It seemed enough to satisfy the ninja and the hand eased from Jesse’s shoulder only to lift in tandem with its twin. It took Jesse longer than he liked to admit to realise what was happening, only processing the hat in Genji’s grip once it was set on his head. The hands reached around his neck, next, and he found himself leaning forward a little to compensate for the height difference and to make it easier for Genji to tie the handkerchief around his neck. Between the familiar weights and the comforting feeling of his lucky flannel he had asked his friend to bring him a few days prior, he was almost feeling normal.

So long as he didn’t look down too far, so Jesse kept his eyes on that smooth metal faceplate and the glimmering green visor and the way the cyborg tilted his head to the left, now, jostling the fabric hanging from the back of his head. Curiousity.

“You are able to leave?” Genji ventured, though his voice remained low and careful. Jesse called it Genji’s ‘med bay voice’. He had never once heard the cyborg raise it any louder within the wards, even on the few occasions he had been able to accompany him for checkups of his systems. The cowboy nodded, and Genji returned the action. “Walk on my left today.”

Jesse opened his mouth to question the comment. Genji always preferred people to walk on his right. When he had asked, once, after being repositioned for the third time in a day, Genji had simply explained that it made him feel more comfortable; that it allowed him to easily reach for his sidearm in an emergency without risking causing injury to anyone in his company. Jesse hadn’t questioned it then, because he understood the logic behind it, which only left him questioning such a decision now, because he doubted Genji had suddenly become comfortable enough to lower his guard even slightly, even on base.

When Genji’s hands lifted, though, all the words died on Jesse’s tongue and he was left staring slackjawed as he watched.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen Genji without his visor. That was why he knew what was happening. It was more that he had never seen Genji making to remove his visor anywhere that they could easily be walked in on, or where the cyborg wouldn’t have a chance to replace it if he heard someone approaching. It was a recent development, convincing his friend that things wouldn’t sour between them simply because he showed his scarred face (nor that they would sour if he chose not to), but it was usually when Jesse was outside hidden amongst the cliffs stealing a chance to smoke where Mercy wouldn’t catch them, or tucked away in a rec room in the dead of night when neither could sleep, or those few rare nights when every other Blackwatch agent was on a mission leaving them the only two on standby and Genji needing physical company to ward away the plaguing nightmares. Even during Genji’s checkups that he was allowed to be there for, Jesse had always been forbidden from looking whenever the mask came off.

By the time Jesse managed to pick his mouth up off the floor, it was only because the visor was being shoved into his hand with a meaningful look from those unfocused eyes searching for the main features of his face.

“Y’sure.,.?” He finally found his voice again, even as he sandwiched the visor between his hand and Genji’s, his hold gentle enough to allowed his friend to pull away if he changed his mind. “Thought y’can’t see proper without this thing.”

“I am sure. And you are correct,” Genji said as he slowly removed his hand, ensuring the visor stayed in the elder’s grasp. “However, I can see well enough to get around. So long as I have someone to ensure I do not trip on anything on the ground.”

Jesse ducked his head forward a little and he drew the visor closer to himself, admittedly touched by the show of trust. “I’ll keep ya upright, darlin’, don’t you worry,” he reassured him, affixing the mask to a belt loop to free up his hand. Can’t possibly catch someone if his hand is occupied. “But you change your mind at all, you let me know, alright? Y’can have it back any time.”

He wondered briefly if that would be the end of it, and there was little surprise when Genji hesitated at the sight of the door he turned to face. Jesse didn’t call him out on it, though. He simply gritted his teeth through another flash of pain (even folded up, the sleeve of his flannel was irritating his bandaged stump if he moved it too much) and stepped forward to stand beside the cyborg. He slumped a little to accommodate for the height difference and he ran his fingers down the inside of Genji’s forearm slowly, tracing over the warm CNT, until he was able to slip his hand into his friend’s and lace their fingers together.

For a long moment, as Genji simply stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise, eyes not quite locking with his own, Jesse cycled through all the possibly things he could say. There were warm reassurances, promises that he was right there. There were questions, starting with why Genji had chosen now of all times to show everyone else his face, and ending with something more rhetorical, like if Genji knew how beautiful his cloudy eyes looked, or if they really had to leave the medical bay.

Whether Genji was aware of the unspoken question or not, Jesse didn’t know. He didn’t get a chance to ask, because the cyborg simply gave the hand in his a short squeeze, wary of his own strength, before making for the door. No last look back to see if Jesse was ready. No final concerned inquiry to check Jesse was really sure that he didn’t need painkillers. Just his head raised high with pride, his small frame appearing so much larger in the cowboy’s eyes, and briefly Jesse wondered if this wasn’t the real aura of the heir Genji had been before he became a victim of fratricide.

It would only occur to Jesse later that day, as they were both sitting on an outcrop in the Gibraltar cliff face with their legs hang over the crashing sea far beneath them and the sun setting over the horizon with an orange glow, that it had been fear that made Genji take that first step out of the medical bay. 

The entire day had been filled with murmurs and glances, hushed words that Jesse was sure they weren’t actually supposed to hear. There were questioning gazes and confused expressions, and even the few shocked ones of those who had still thought Genji nothing but an omnic, not something even slightly human in origin. More than once, Jesse had tugged his friend aside into an empty meeting room or a deserted hallway and slid his arm around him in comfort and offered the visor still hanging from his belt loop. Always turned down; always reassured that the cyborg was okay.

Most people had kept their distance, and those that had approached were among the far more senior members within the organisation. The ones that would have approached regardless. 

Ana had been first, when they had ventured to the main mess in search of food, having already been warned that Blackwatch’s supply run hadn’t yet returned. She’d sat herself down as easily as whenever she ventured into the tunnels of the Blackwatch base squirrelled away in the cliffs, armed with tea and cups. She didn’t mention the visor, nor the arm, and lead the conversation towards discussing Fareeha and the latest letter she had received and how her daughter was doing in school. Reinhardt had joined them, as jovial as ever, and regaled them with tales of his Crusader days like he always reverted to when there was an elephant in the room.

Morrison had found them, next, intercepting them in a hallway as they headed deeper into the cliff towards the Blackwatch barracks. His eyes had lingered on Genji’s face a moment longer than normal, but he had said nothing and simply commented on how glad he was to see Jesse back on his feet. There were large hands clapping on shoulders, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips before he excused himself to a meeting.

Gabriel had been much less subtle. His chair had been kicked over backwards in his haste to stand the moment they both entered the Blackwatch rec room, and his arms had swung around Jesse in a hug so fast and so tight that the flash of pain in his stump of an arm was almost crushed to numbness in the hold. The pain had flooded back at the first moment of ease and the captain had realised his mistake. Discussion followed, mostly focused on the cowboy. Gabriel had made a start to ask about Genji wandering around without his visor, or so Jesse had assumed, but he had only made it a few words before deciding not to. As though he already had his answer.

“Genji,” Jesse didn’t pull his eyes away from the sunset in front of them as he called to the cyborg beside him, only lowering the cigarillo from his lips (he hadn’t had any at all during his recovery period, so he didn’t feel so bad about being on his third one already, especially since he had been sharing). “Why were y’so insistent on goin’ without the visor?”

There was silence for a long moment, Genji not even bothering to look away from the sunset. He shifted his weight, leaning back on his palms. Jesse turned his head to watch him, but there was still no reply, the cyborg’s bleary eyes simply staring ahead. The silence dragged on long enough to prompt the cowboy to return the cigarillo to his lips, and he eventually conceded that he wasn’t going to get an answer. Not unusual. Genji had always been the private sort who locked himself tighter and tighter when pushed, and Jesse had learned very early on to simply let the cyborg have his silence. So he let the matter drop and leaned back to lay down on the stone and tugged his hat down a little to keep the light from glaring in his eyes.

The first interruption of the silence wasn’t an answer. It was the shifting of the body beside him; the sound of CNT and metal scraping across rocks as Genji moved himself from the edge to lay down where their heads were level. The second interruption was metal fingers gently gripping the brim of the cowboy hat and removing it from Jesse’s head. The gunslinger allowed it, even lifting his head a little to assist in the removal, and then he let his head loll to the side to watch.

“No has commented on your arm, correct?” Genji didn’t look at him as he placed the hat on his head, adjusting it until it was sitting comfortable, and when he did turn his head, it was to retrieve the cigarillo from Jesse’s lips and place it between his own. The metal jaw was on full display, the cyborg having removed the lower frame of the helmet when they had arrived on the cliff edge. Jesse could count on one hand the number of times he had seen it before, whether it was to share a smoke like this, or for Genji to drink the odd protein shakes he required. 

The cowboy lifted his hand, calloused fingers scratching over the smooth metal of the younger’s jaw. He ran the question over in his head, looking back on the day.

Genji was right. 

Apart from Gabriel, who Jesse figured didn’t really count in the first place, no one had commented on his arm. If he really thought about it, no one had even looked at it. All eyes had been on Genji’s face, as far away from Jesse’s stump as could be. The missing visor and the insistence to continue without it despite visible discomfort. The change in walking formations and the constant twitch in Genji’s fingers wanting to reach to his wakizashi but unable to draw it without risk of harming Jesse.

“Damn, darlin’,” Jesse breathed, his hand moving to cup the other’s jaw, thumb rubbing over the scarred flesh of a cheekbone. “What’d I do to deserve you?” He coaxed the cyborg closer with a gentle pull of his hand, and instinct drew his own head up a little. Their faces ended up barely an inch apart, and Jesse’s mouth fell open, and smoke filled the silence in a cloud between one mouth and the other. The cowboy held it, for a moment, rolling the taste over his tongue before he slowly let it escape through his nose, wafting into the air around them. Their noses bumped. Jesse breathed. “Shit, I really don’t deserve you.”

“Why do you say that, Jesse McCree?” Genji spoke and Jesse stared, because he could never get used to the way the cyborg didn’t need to move his mouth to get the words out. Behind the visor, or even just behind the frames that usually hide the metal jaw, it was easy to forget that a synthetic vocaliser had long since replaced Genji’s voice. “You are normally so confident and optimistic and this is where you falter? Kind and selfless Jesse McCree. Everyone’s little brother. Fareeha’s big brother. Gabriel’s beloved _mijo_. Protective and loyal and ready with a smile. Ready to take a bullet. Ready to give anything to save someone. Jesse McCree, you deserve more than half a man simply swallowing his pride to give you a few hours of relief. You deserve the world.”

There was silence for a long moment, before a shaky, “Genji.”

The cyborg hesitated. Silence resumed.

“Darlin’,” Jesse’s voice shook again but he reached his hand out. “Gimme your hand.” The younger man almost recoiled as though out of fear, but the gunslinger interrupted before a question of why could make it out. “Y’can’t see proper so I gotta show ya. Gimme your hand.” There was no anger in his voice, or even sadness, even if the shakiness stayed, syllables catching occasionally in his throat before he forced them out. 

Skin met metal, warm to the touch, and Jesse guided the hand to his face. He lead the hand over his forehead first, past watering eyes, tears dampening trails on his cheeks enough to make the cyborg try to pull away out of regret. Jesse kept his hold strong, though, and continued to pull it along until the smooth fingers reached his mouth and danced along his smiling lips.

The hesitation was lighter, this time. Something of surprise rather than regret. Slowly, Jesse unfurled his fingers from Genji’s wrist and as the cyborg’s fingers continued to trace his bright smile through tears of joy, the gunslinger drew the other’s head down as well until their foreheads touched in a breath of thanks.


End file.
